Aftermath
by Ann3
Summary: Following on from Misbegotten, and the nightmare for Carson goes on. Rated T for safety, since megawhumpage involved. Please R&R ! Thanks !
1. Chapter One Incubatus

Aftermath

by Ann3

Writer's Note: I'm baaaa-aaaack ! Yes, after a rather busy spell in RL, I've finally found some lovely free time to get back to my writing.

I'm still working on my By Its Cover series, but... well, to be honest, after seeing Misbegotton recently, that edge-of-seat storyline just got itself stuck in my head, and it doesn't want to come out ! So with nothing _too_ graphic, here's my idea on what you _didn't_ get to see during Beckett's interrogation at Michael's hands.

Spoilers for Misbegotten, of course, with whumpage warnings to come in later chapters. All comments, as always, gladly welcomed !

Chapter One

Incubatus

"N – No… I – I c – can't… m – mus'n't… t'll… mus'n't…"

She woke sharply, for the third time that night, to once again share the silent terrors of his mind. And just as she'd done in those two previous occasions, Laura Cadman cursed in bitter dismay.

Oh, God, no. Not again.

As before, his eyes were still closed, clenched lashes strikingly dark against the pale, stricken face – the faint sheen of sweat across it growing slicker as his head thrashed from one end of the pillow to its other.

"N – No… mus'n't… mus'n't…"

Fighting down her rising alarm, Laura instinctively drew Carson's quaking body closer to hers - bracing herself for the heartbreaking cries and struggles which she knew were coming.

"Sh… it's alright, Carson, you're safe now… you're safe now, baby, it's alright… you're safe now…"

Too deeply snared in his nightmare to acknowledge her, Carson continued to feebly fight her instead. Yet even as those struggles continued against her, Laura held doggedly onto him – a voice that couldn't even begin to hide its worry gently pleading with him to recognise her.

"Sh, baby, it's alright… it's alright, Carson, you're safe now… you're safe now, it's all over... he can't hurt you any more…"

_Like hell he can't_... she thought bitterly, fighting what she already knew was a lost battle to break Michael's brutal hold over Carson's mind. _Like hell he can't_.

This closeness of comforting, reassuring contact had been enough to settle him down twice so far that night, before the terrors within his mind had forced him to wake. Or maybe she'd just been perversely lucky that his own physical exhaustion had blessedly intervened.

Except there was something more alarming, more unsettling to it this time, than Carson's tormented restlessness. He wasn't just muttering now, those frantic pleas which had chilled Laura Cadman to the depths of her soul. He was no longer frantically begging his tormentor to 'Jus' bloody kill me an'... and ha'e done with it…'

Instead the nightmare which, so far, had yet to fully claim him, now did so with terrifying force – the barely coherent ramblings now suddenly rising into a full fledged scream of pure and total terror.

"N – No…! Please… oh God, please… don't... no... please, _noooo_…!"

That scream alone horrified her. Another, more piercing still, seared further agony into Laura's heart.

"_Noooooooooo_…!"

From pure gut instinct, Laura started to sit up, physically bracing herself to catch him and somehow hold on. He'd never do anything to hurt her, of course, but when fuelled by such complete, consuming terror as this…? Well, holding onto one hundred and ninety pounds of solid Scottish muscle was _not_ going to be easy.

She was already struggling just to restrain his hands, to stop their wild flailing from hurting him further. The chances of stopping him from bolting clear through the wall were… well, slim, to say the least.

As it turned out, though, this further test of her own strength and rational calm failed to materialise. Instead the wildly thrashing body in her arms jerked and stiffened, before falling completely slack. Eyes that had locked in pure terror onto the ceiling lost their focus just as abruptly, losing all trace of lucid awareness as they rolled back beneath their lids.

Stunned motionless herself, it was thirty clear seconds before Laura could shakily whisper his name – her free hand fumbling for her headset long before the second, close to frantic attempt to rouse him.

"Carson…? Carson, it's me, it's – it's Laura… can you hear me…? Carson…?"

Nothing. If anything, totally limp in her arms, he now lay even more terrifyingly away from her. And she didn't need a medical degree to realise that Carson, her cherished Carson, was now in serious trouble.

The face that she'd fallen so instantly in love with, one normally so full of life, so full of vitality, was now totally inert. Still cradled in her arms, his body, too, had fallen into the same, deeply disturbing stillness. Where he'd struggled, just moments before, so desperately against her, now he lay unnervingly limp.

It was his eyes, though, nothing more than slits of blue glass, which now chilled Laura's blood to ice. Barely visible between unblinking lashes, they were completely blank – stripped of all recognition. It was as though someone had reached inside Carson's mind and extinguished all signs of life within.

Stunned and shaken by this brutal awakening, Laura fumbled her headset into still trembling hands. Whatever world Carson Beckett now lay so deathly still and silently within, Laura knew it was light years from this one – prompting another frantic call into the night, one that barely consoled her with its certainty of instant response.

"Medical team to Dr Beckett's quarters… _stat_…!"


	2. Chapter 2 Damage Control

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Awwww, thanks so much for the reviews, and the welcomes ! It really is good to be back !

Okay then, here's chapter two - more to follow as soon as RL allows !

Chapter Two

Damage Control

If there'd been a previous record for reaching the Infirmary, then John Sheppard had just shattered it.

He'd been quietly dreading this moment, of course, since their skin-of-their-teeth escape two days ago, but – dear God, staring down at his lifeless, stricken friend, he'd not expected it to come so violently, or so sickeningly, as this.

The whys and wherefores, the inevitable tackling of his conscience, though, would have to wait. Damage control, on so many levels and in every conceivable sense, had to come first. The daunting fight to save Carson Beckett's brutalised mind took priority over everything else.

He was powerless, of course, to bring his friend through the medical side of that fight. That unenviable task lay with Dr Kate Buchanan as she worked, remarkably calmly, at Carson's side.

Beneath that calmness, though, silent fury burned. She had no idea where the ongoing bane to her CMO's overloaded conscience was right now. Kate didn't know if Michael was even alive. Quite frankly, all Hippocratic duty aside, she didn't care. All she cared about right now was the lifeless, silent husk of humanity which his brutal spite had left behind.

The extent of the damage which he'd inflicted wouldn't be known for several hours yet. But for now, at least, Carson Beckett lay safely beyond the reach of its latest, insidious threat. Surrounded by banks of protective monitors, he lay oblivious to everything, and everyone, around him.

Much of that oblivion came from the sedation which now held him, very gently, in its deepest refuge. Beyond its healing mantle, though… well, Kate really didn't want to consider that thought just yet.

Instead, re-checking those vital monitors, she then finally met two anxious, identically terrified faces – making a point of squeezing Laura's shoulder while offering her what few words of comfort she could.

"He's stable now, lass, an' sleeping at peace… he's alright, nothin' can hurt or torment him now…"

Somehow, though God alone knew from where, Laura Cadman managed to find a faint smile in return. Beyond its façade, though, the silent fear in her eyes betrayed the bombshell she knew was coming.

"It's bad, though, isn't it…?" she finally whispered, not even trying to hide that fear from her voice. "I – I mean, he just wouldn't respond to me, Kate, however much I tried to bring him round, and… it's bad… whatever that bastard's done to him, to - to leave him like this, it's – it's bad… isn't it…?"

Trading the briefest of 'go ahead' nods with John Sheppard, Kate then nodded in resigned acceptance. Sugar coating it under layers of false hope wouldn't make this ongoing nightmare any easier to handle.

"Aye, lass… yes, I'm afraid it is… Carson has suffered a severe mental trauma… his mind has virtually shut down, taking him physically with it..." she said at last – pausing once more, trying to find a way to put that trauma's cause into coherent, understandable terms.

"He knew that Michael would torture him, if necessary, to make him reveal Colonel Sheppard's plans. And as a doctor, Carson knew how vital it would be to protect his mind from such awful, terrible pain. Faced with something he'd never experienced, he knew he had to defend himself as best he could…"

"You mean like a failsafe…?" John Sheppard chipped in, wincing slightly at this cruellest of ironies. In being so brutally forced to reveal one such measure, one of his closest friends now lay equally helpless within another

Kate Buchanan's gentle, typically no-nonsense reply reassured and appalled him in equal measure

"Aye, lad, that's right. My guess is that he's tried to block out the trauma of being tortured, and…"

"…and now he's remembering it… re-living it through these nightmares…" Laura concluded softly – swallowing hard, against her own, still painfully raw memories, as she voiced the next, unavoidable question.

"This is just the start, though, isn't it…? These nightmares will keep coming… they'll get worse, until…"

"…he lets those defences down and lets himself remember…" Kate finished for her, smiling gently – giving Laura's shoulder a heartening squeeze with one hand while the other stroked back Carson's hair. "Aye lass, I'm afraid so… and for them to come all at once… well, it's too much for him to cope with. That's why I've sedated him so deeply, to stop whatever triggered those memories from reaching him. I want to keep him at complete rest, both physically and mentally, for at least the next forty eight hours. Hopefully by the time he wakes up, he'll be strong enough to face them under closer, medically contained control…"

It was one hell of an assumption to make, of course, with so many difficult issues still to resolve.

But as she watched Laura and John settle into their shared vigil at Carson's side, Kate could still smile. Whatever horrors Carson Beckett still faced in this nightmare, in the long and difficult days to come – well, at least he wouldn't face them, or their consequences, in the greater horror of facing them alone.


	3. Chapter 3 Awakening

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews, they're keeping me inspired ! I'm guessing you want to know what's going to happen next, right...? Well, the good news is that Carson wakes up. The bad news ? Ah, that'll come in the next bit !

Yes, yes, so I'm evil... I hope you enjoy anyway...!

Chapter Three

Awakening

To the untrained eye, the monitors at his bedside showed little more than jumping lines across a screen. But to a doctor keeping watch over her patient, their increasing activity meant everything in the world. It heralded a vital change in that patient's condition, which had Kate Buchanan instantly on the highest alert

After fifty hours of lying in painstakingly controlled sleep, Carson Beckett was starting to wake up – soft sobs of discomfort, winces across still closed eyes, warning her it was not a pleasant awakening.

And it would get worse, Kate sadly reflected, placing the gentlest of comforting hands on his shoulder. After those precious two days of complete oblivion, she knew that he'd be re-waking into total hell.

"It's alright, Carson, you're safe now… you're safely home now, son, it's all over…" she said softly – noting, in both personal and professional concern, that her attempts to reassure him weren't working.

If anything, he was becoming more and more restless, flinching more agitatedly away from her – further muffled sobs, growing steadily louder, now rousing several others from their own restless sleep

First to find his bearings, John Sheppard was already out of his seat. Seconds later, Rodney stood at John's shoulder, while Elizabeth, Teyla and Ronon flanked the other.

From the adjacent bed, Laura Cadman was rising too, stumbling in her haste to reach Carson's side – sagging against her CO's supporting arm as, yet again, her hopes and prayers were brutally shattered.

She'd prayed so hard for this moment. Waited so long for him to show some precious sign of life. And for that yearned for moment to come like this, as Carson flinched in pure terror at her touch…? It was too heartbreaking for her to take.

A rising, bitter, furious anger then rushed through a mind too exhausted and demoralised to stop it. So some lowlife Wraith held more sway over her precious Carson than she did…?

Well, to hell with that.

"Carson…? Carson, please, you've – you've got to wake up from this…" she finally whispered – lingering fear still cracking unashamedly through her voice as she tried, yet again, to reach him. "Come on, baby, start to fight this thing... start fighting it, Carson, you hear me…? Carson…?"

It could have been the recognition of her voice, or the gentlest of kisses that had settled on his cheek.

Maybe it was the spirits of the Ancients – uniting, in time of Carson Beckett's darkest need, to revive one of their own. Or it may have been pure and simple, sheer Scottish bloody-mindedness, which found its way through. But as he thankfully quietened into Laura's cradling arms, Carson's eyes started to flicker slowly open. And while still clouded beneath a fog of exhaustion, those eyes held a precious hint of awareness – this trace of recognition answering the prayers of a city as the faintest of voices breathed out her name.

"L – La'ra…?"

Even as elated hugs and backslaps erupted along his bedside, Kate Buchanan still signalled for quiet – a request met with still restless obedience as she placed the gentlest of hands on Carson's shoulder.

"Carson…? Aye, son, I know this must be unsettlin' for ye, and awfu' confusing... but do ye know where you are…?"

Such a simple question – yet one that a still confused, deeply traumatised mind struggled to answer. Finally, though, the pained eyes which had flitted nervously around him gained a little more focus – a voice which could still barely make itself heard whispering another precious sign of recognition.

"'l'ntis… 'fm… 'nf'm'ry…"

Even Kate was smiling more easily now as she nodded, giving Carson's hand a heartening squeeze.

"Yes, Carson… aye, you're home… safe in the Infirmary…" she said at last, still holding his hand – quietly grateful that sleep reclaimed him before he could think to ask the next, inevitable question. They'd barely got him back this time around. God alone knew what would have happened if he'd started to remember again.

Once sure that he'd settled, Kate then glanced along the relieved yet still anxious faces beside her, nodding confirmation that Carson had safely returned to the land of the living.

He'd woken blessedly lucid, still able to recognise his surroundings – the reassuring promise of safety. But everyone who'd witnessed that awakening knew that something else had re-wakened with it. Once those memories returned, the nightmares that had tormented him so cruelly would return.

Carson Beckett's ordeal wasn't over yet. Everyone who now traded uneasy glances around him knew that. If anything, it was about to get a whole lot worse.


	4. Chapter 4 Screaming In Silence

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Aw, you guys are the best ! Thanks so much for all the feedback !

Now, for all those out there whose minds are as sick and twisted and evil as mine, who's up for some whumping...? You are...? Really...? Oh, good - though not so good for Carson... ;o)

Chapter Four

Screaming In Silence

He was back. He'd returned. A shadowy presence, lurking at his shoulder, was calling his name. Its voice nagged ruthlessly at his silently screaming mind, demanding response and recognition.

Except he didn't want to respond. He didn't want to wake into the unthinkable horror that awaited him. All Carson Beckett wanted right now was for that alien hand to slam itself into the exposed target of his chest. More than anything else, Carson wanted this living hell to end in sweet, eternal, merciful death.

Yet even that most desperate wish was denied him, as the invader inside his mind re-took control. Against helpless, pleading whimpers, his eyes were forced to open. Forced to meet those of his tormentor.

The gloating, mocking smile which he found there offered Carson no comfort. No hint of mercy. All it promised him was further torment. Yet another assault of mind-breaking, excruciating pain.

He was touching him now, a brutal hand that had once been human stroking idly across his chest – the jack-hammering heart beneath causing Michael's smile to widen in the cruellest of satisfaction.

"I have sorely misjudged you, Dr Beckett…" he said at last, those clinical fingers still repulsively exploring him. "You resist torture well. I'm impressed. I had expected to break you _long_ before now…"

If he'd had the strength, he'd have told his tormentor, at cursing length, just where to stick his mocking praise. Within his still reeling, agonised mind, three bitter, faintly gasped words did the trick just as well.

"G'… t'… hell…"

He'd pay in agony, of course, for such reckless defiance. But at that moment, Carson Beckett didn't care. He just didn't care.

He was going to die. He knew that. Strapped onto this damn bed, Carson knew he was going to die. And the thought of dying like this – alone, so far from home, so far from those he loved, so powerless to escape – succeeded where Michael had failed.

That knowledge broke him. It broke him, shattering him in mind and spirit, every bit as ruthlessly as his physical suffering.

In final remnants of lucid awareness, just one thought continued its desperate struggle to survive. Whatever the risk, John Sheppard never, _ever_, left any member of his team in hostile, enemy hands.

He would come back – wouldn't he…? John. Teyla. Rodney. Ronon. They _would_ come back for him. They'd pick up the approaching Hive ship on their scanners. They'd realise why he'd not reported in, realise why Morrison wasn't there, and…

'_God_, _no_… _oh_, _dear God_… _sweet God_, _no_…'

Horrified in realising what he'd just done, what would surely follow, Carson clenched his eyes shut – this refuge of darkness, if anything, making the sensation of what happened next all the more horrific.

He couldn't see what his tormentor intended to do to him next. But he could still feel it. Recognise it. Silently scream at it.

The fingers on top of his chest stopped moving. Then, with clinical slowness, they drifted idly upwards. Settling, with now familiar intent, on either side of his head, they pressed inward. Starting the process. Starting the torture. Claw-like nails dug savagely into his temples as that voice returned, to haunt him in brutal victory.

"I admire your faith, doctor, but I'm afraid it's sadly misguided… they'll _never_ reach you in time…" Another pause, prolonging the agony, before the voice inside his mind demanded him to obey.

'_Open them again_… _you will open them_, _Dr Beckett_… _you will let me into your mind_…'

Reptilian green eyes, void of all humanity, then bore down into savagely re-opened, terrified blue. In a face stripped of all human mercy, those eyes gleamed in triumph.

"These scanners, doctor… now I find their ability to detect us _most_ intriguing… tell me more… tell me _everything_..."

Staring upwards, into truly inhuman eyes, Carson felt his mind explode once more in complete agony. His entire body jerked, arching and bucking helplessly against the restraints that held him down. Then his mouth fell open and he screamed, again and again, as his mind was brutally ripped apart.

In reality, a cocktail of drugs and sedatives had muted those screams into the faintest, weakest of sobs.

But they'd still been enough to startle John Sheppard by their sudden, totally unexpected sound – surprise giving way to staring shock as his eyes re-settled on their once more still and silent source.

The haggard face was peaceful again now, as Carson slid back into a sanctuary of depthless sleep. It was a false peace, though, as a stray tear seeped out from beneath still heavily closed eyes. When another followed, John Sheppard bowed his head, lost once more in his own silent despair.

Where the hell would it end…? Where, and when, would a friend's unjust suffering end…?


	5. Chapter 5 Prisoners And Pawns

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Aaaaah, so we're in the mood for whumpage, are we...? Well, since I'm such a generous soul, I'm going to share it around a bit in this chapter. Poor Shep looked so horrified when he saw Carson strapped onto that bed that the plot bunnies went on the rampage, and... well, here's my idea as to what may have caused it... ;o)

Chapter Five

Prisoners And Pawns

For the next thirty hours, Carson Beckett drifted somewhere between consciousness and merciful sleep. Each time he woke, he'd hear various voices reassuring him, promising him that he was safe now. Soft, soothing, vaguely familiar voices, telling him that nobody else, nothing more, was going to hurt him.

Still too traumatised to understand what they'd meant, he'd drift back to sleep believing them – fragments of memory, horrific images that refused to fully connect, following him into its sanctuary.

It couldn't last, of course. However much they wanted it to last, those voices' owners knew that it couldn't. It was only a matter of time, they knew, before those calm and peaceful dreams exploded into horror.

More than any of them, John Sheppard had his own, privately shattering cause to dread its coming – something more than fate decreeing that he should share that moment when it finally, brutally, came.

Perched, in brotherly watchfulness, at Carson's shoulder, he'd tried, in vain, to settle with his book – suddenly fretful shifting beside him making already distracted attempts to read it close to impossible.

All too familiar with these telltale signs of waking terror, John was already moving too in response – one hand tossing the dog-eared novel aside while the other settled, very gently, on Carson's shoulder.

"Easy, Carson, it's alright… easy now, Carson, you're safe now… it's okay, you're safe now…"

He'd offered those assurances for the last two days now, quietly hating their hollow falseness – part of him almost grateful that Carson's tortured subconscious no longer allowed him to believe them. He was tossing in its possession now, whimpering cries slowly rising into the inevitable scream.

"N – No… no, please, d – don't… stop… God, please, stop… no… no, please… no… _noooooo_…!"

Mirroring the horrors of his mind, Carson's body arched in its agony, propelling him upright – a headlong flight stopped only by the solid strength of two arms wrapping themselves around him

Consumed by total terror, Carson flailed wildly against those arms, fighting with everything he had – strength that he barely had to start with rapidly deserting him as he collapsed, sobbing, against them.

Too exhausted to struggle further, he then slumped in panting defeat, waiting for brutal punishment – its failure to arrive, a soft voice, gradually coaxing him from hellish terror into merciful comfort.

"Easy, Carson, it's alright… easy now, Carson, I've got you… I've got you… easy now… easy…"

As recognition of that voice finally dawned, Carson stopped struggling and gingerly opened his eyes – tears of lingering pain, uncomprehending panic, veiling the hope that fought to gain ground beyond.

"J – John…?"

In sheer relief, John Sheppard released a long held breath, one he'd not even known he'd been holding, as he forced a far from convincing smile onto his face.

"Yes, Carson, it's me… it's okay, you're safe now… back on Atlantis... yeah, you see...? You're safe now, it's all over…"

It wasn't, of course. It _wasn_'_t_ over. Another muffled sob, fresh trembling against him, told him that. Tempered as they were by sedatives, his own exhaustion, those memories still reached a mind torn apart by their brutality.

Carson Beckett had remembered more this time. He'd remembered _everything._

"Oh – Oh, my God…" he finally whispered, stricken blue eyes re-meeting grimly sympathetic green. "I – I jus' couldn't stop him, John… jus' – jus' couldn't stop him… couldn't stop him, c – couldn't…"

And suddenly, as the horrific realization of what had been done to him sunk in, it was all too much – one last, muffled sob escaping from him as Carson broke down, all but collapsing into John's arms.

Wrapping him back into the tightest embrace that he dared, John Sheppard again cursed his suffering. No-one knew more than he did how devastating it was to have your mind so savagely invaded. How devastating it was, in every sense, to have its knowledge pawned to the use of a brutal enemy.

For Carson Beckett, that inhuman violation had come, alone, on a distant planet - countless miles from comforting, yearned for home. For John Sheppard, it had come in the stifling, filthily stinking confinement of an Afghanistan prison.

It was too soon, of course, still completely out of the question, to explain that horrific connection yet. Haunted by his own demons, Carson Beckett was in no state to help him through his private, re-wakened hell.

All that John could do was hold onto his friend, seeking comfort just as much as he tried to offer it. As Carson fell emotionally apart in his arms, all he could do was hold onto him, cry alongside him – letting his own tears of bitter pain, helpless fury, dampen the shoulder that shook and shook against his.

"I know, Carson… yeah, buddy, I know… I know…"


	6. Chapter 6 Silences, Shocks & Solutions

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Okay, so we're enjoying the whumpage, then...? I'm _so_ glad, since there's lots more to come... ;o)

Before we get there, though, we need to get inside poor wee Carson's megawhumped mind... hmmm, now where do you suppose the idea for that's going to come from...?

Thanks again for all the reviews - you keep me inspired ! And where there's inspiration, there's whumpage... ;o)

Chapter Six

Silences, Shocks And Solutions

He was safe. Alive. Laura could see him, feel him, warm and real and solid, lying cradled in her arms. Physically speaking, Carson was right there beside her. She could touch him. Feel him. Hold him.

In all other possible ways, though…? Well, he might just as well have been on another planet.

Part of him had died last night, as the horrors of his mind had finally taken the cruellest of tolls. Part of the gentlest, sweetest soul that she'd ever known had been torn away. Forever lost.

Since waking that morning, he'd lain still and silent against her, not moving. Not saying a word. The only movement had come from his eyes as they'd flicked from one bandaged wrist to the other.

Even then, they'd shown no reaction at all to the healing grazes beneath. Shown no sign of emotion. Instead they'd drifted to the ceiling. Down to his blanketed toes. Along his IV line. Down to his toes again. Across to the adjacent wall.

For the last twenty minutes, he'd looked everywhere in that room, _everywhere_, except at her. And in her own quietly bitter, seething silence, it was driving Laura Cadman to the end of her tether – a soft, choked, barely audible whisper as much a shock to her as it was one almighty relief.

"'m sorry, lass… I – I jus' don' know wha'… wha' to say to ye… how to – to face ye…"

He still couldn't meet her eyes. And the strong, adorably accented voice still sounded totally lost. But he was talking. _Finally_ talking. However brokenly he did so, Laura Cadman would settle for that.

But much as she yearned to lighten this oppressive mood between them, she didn't dare attempt to. It would be the cruellest of ironies if something _she_ said were to tip her precious Carson over the edge.

So instead she just spoke very gently from her heart, quietly praying she was saying the right thing.

"Face me…?" she said at last, resisting the urge to ask him if she was really _that_ ugly to look at. "I'm sorry, baby, I don't understand… why should you find it so hard to face me…?"

Eyes of purest, still stricken blue finally met hers, the haggard face expressing the same disbelief – echoed through a voice broadened by shock, and raised by a dangerously simmering keg of emotions.

"Bloody hell, lass, I – I canna believe ye just asked me that…!" Carson said at last, staring up at her – the complete lethargy of just moments before now swinging to its equally alarming, opposite extreme.

"I've let ye down, lass…! You, an' Dr Weir, an'… an' ev'ryone on Atlantis, I've let all o' ye down…! I've jus' told the Wraith ev'rything they'd ever want to – to know about us, all our defences, an'…an'… an' how to get past them, to – to get to us, an'… an' destroy us, an' God know what else, an'…"

Too distraught to continue, Carson then fell back into the silence which had separated them before – fiercely clenched eyes sparing him the further torment of seeing the tears that now welled in Laura's.

It was the terror talking. She knew that. Unimaginable suffering had caused that extraordinary outburst. But it had still hurt. Try as she might to understand its cause, it had still hurt her like hell.

He'd realised it too now. Even in the depths of his own despair, he'd still felt the pain he'd caused her. And however close he was to falling emotionally apart, Carson Beckett just couldn't have that – tears that had become his constant companion spilling through another panic stricken tumble of words.

"Oh, God, lass, 'm – 'm sorry… I – I di'n't mean it, love… I – I don' know wha's wrong wi' me…! I – I jus' feel like I'm losin' my mind, lass, all over again, an'… an' I don' know how to stop it…!"

Holding onto him as fiercely as he was clinging to her, Laura was crying helplessly too now – struggling to comfort him as the full, true reason for Carson's outburst became heartbreakingly clear

"I have to – to remember what he did to me, love… I – I _have_ to 'member what I told him, but… but... God an' you forgive me, Laura, but I – I can't… I'm too much o' a bloody coward to face it…"

Overwhelmed now, in a breakdown of emotion they both sorely needed, neither of them noticed him – a grim faced, quietly watching figure, now stealing out of the Infirmary as silently as he'd stolen in.

Ten minutes later, Kate Heightmeyer opened her office door to an unexpected, unscheduled visitor – staring in surprise into the somewhat awkward, self conscious face of one Colonel John Sheppard.

Still glancing furtively around him, he then smiled with the same nervous unease before loping inside.

"Hey, sorry to drop by without an appointment, doc, but… um… you… um… you got a minute…?"


	7. Chapter 7 Not So Desperate Measures

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Yes, I know it was a bit mean of me, not letting you in on Shep's plan. Hmmm, I wonder what Carson will think of it... ;o)

Just a slight reference to The Gift here, before we start finding out what's going on in that sweet, tufty wee head... enjoy !

Chapter Seven

Not So Desperate Measures

There'd been a reassuringly familiar charm to Carson Beckett's reaction to what he'd just heard – his eyes rounding to the size of dinner plates, reflecting everything that a stunned mind couldn't say. That reaction alone had raised John Sheppard's spirits. What followed next was more encouraging still.

There were so many emotions tumbling through those eyes now that it proving hard to keep count. Surprise. Fear. Doubt. Apprehension. Followed reassuringly closely behind by curiosity. Realisation. Returning hope.

Finally, though, to John Sheppard's own relief, hopeful interest won its war over fearful uncertainty. And when Carson finally spoke, John's cautious smile widened to a broad grin of pure and open pride.

Beyond its surprise, there was new strength now to Carson's voice. A quiet, so very welcome strength. From that strength alone, John already knew what Carson's reply to that make-or-break suggestion would be.

"Hypnosis… puttin' me under so I can remember what – what he made me tell him…" he said at last, even managing a trace of a rueful smile as his fingers brushed at a once painfully split cheekbone, before he quizzically re-met John's eyes. "Ye - Ye mean like we tried with Teyla that time, to – to see if she could link minds with the Wraith…?"

"Yeah, that's it, pretty much… and at least you'll know that you're safe now…" John reminded him – toning his grin down to a more appropriate smile as he gave Carson's shoulder a gently rallying pat. "I know you've been through hell already, Carson, and this'll put you through it all over again, but…"

"Aye, lad, I know… and as ye just said yourself, I'll know I'm safe now…" Carson cut in softly – the new resilience faltering, just for a moment, as the interrupted 'but…' was faced just as quietly. "'sides, ye – ye need to know what I told him, 'fore he – he gets the chance to use it…"

To his surprised relief, there was no censure in John Sheppard's eyes. No trace of blame or anger. Just a haunted understanding, a silent agony, before he sighed and shrugged, nodding agreement.

"Well, yeah, there's that too…" he admitted, placing another firm hand on Carson's other shoulder – giving both an encouraging shake, emphasising a point which, he knew, his friend _had_ to understand. "But even if he does, Carson, it _won_'_t_ be your fault… it _won_'_t _be your fault… _okay_…?"

Nobody in their right mind would dare argue with John Sheppard when he used _that_ tone of voice. As things stood at the moment, Carson dryly reflected, he wasn't even sure where _his_ mind was. And he didn't have the strength to tackle a damn lettuce leaf right now, let alone a strapping, six foot two inch colonel

So instead he just smiled and nodded, drawing quiet encouragement from the eyes that still held his – the deep, unbreakable compassion within him sleepily puzzling over the silent pain he saw there.

Perhaps thankfully, Elizabeth's voice stopped a still dangerously fragile mind from realising its cause.

"Yes, Carson, let _us_ take care of Atlantis… _you_ just concentrate on getting well again, okay…?"

Too physically drained to argue, Carson smiled back at her, nodding again in weary agreement – sleepily mumbled assurances growing sleepier still as his eyelids lost their latest battle with gravity.

"'ye, love, I will… don' worry, l'ss, 'm – 'm goin' t' be alright… 'lantis'll be… be alr'ght…"

Watching him settle, Elizabeth and John then traded glances of shared pride. Unbridled relief. Even so, there was still a distracted concern in Elizabeth's eyes as she stroked back Carson's hair.

"I know it has to be done, John… for Carson's peace of mind as much as anything else, but…"

"It's going to be hell on him… yes, Liz, I know…" John agreed, still distractedly studying his friend – a vital breakthrough in his recovery, one that only he could understand, now explained just as softly. "But it's Carson's decision, Liz. _He_ made it, himself, freely and willingly. Trust me, _that_'_s_ what matters…"

Frowning in puzzlement, Elizabeth's smile then returned as she caught the meaning of what he'd said. After several days of pure terror possessing it, Carson Beckett had regained precious control of his mind.

The measures made to free it completely may have been desperate, but his acceptance of them…? Not a bit of it. In fact, he was even smiling slightly now, anticipating the merciful release they'd bring.

Little wonder, then, that Elizabeth now leant in to place the gentlest of proud kisses on Carson's cheek. Her CMO had just taken the meaning of courage to a whole new level. Tomorrow he'd take it even further.


	8. Chapter 8 Paving The Way

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Well, we're about halfway through the story now, and for those who love their whumpage - yep, there's more to come ! But this will be the last update for a wee while, since I'm off on my holidays next week - no prizes for guessing where !

Luckily the story is finished now, so I'll finish posting it once I get back. If I can, I'll squeeze in another chapter between now and Wednesday, because... well, I'd _never _be so mean as to leave you on a cliffie !

Now, back to the plot... and Beckett's about to go bye-byes... awwwwww...!

Chapter Eight

Paving The Way

His last memory had been two smiling faces, their comforting familiarity sustaining him through still restless dreams. They were still there, gently lending him the same strength, when Carson woke the next morning.

That was comforting enough, but to find Laura there with him now, to be held in such loving gentleness…? Well, that was a bonus which, in turn, brought out another vital breakthrough in his recovery. For the first time in five fraught, emotionally draining days, Carson Beckett had smiled. He'd _really_ smiled.

The usual suspects were there with him too now, all of them trying, with varying degrees of success, to disguise the same nervous tension. Teyla. Rodney, and… dear God, had Kate overdone his meds…? Ronon too…?

Speaking of his second in command… well, there were two Kates now, gently checking him over. And next to Kate Heightmeyer was a trolley-load of food that would keep a small army fed for a week.

Or one Rodney McKay – a shang-hai'd slice of toast now penalized in typical, inimitable style.

"Ow…!"

Still rubbing his head, McKay glared useless daggers at an equally unrepentant John Sheppard.

"Why do you always do that…?"

"Because _you_ always deserve it…" John shot back, casting a sleepily watching Carson a playful wink. Rewarded with a weak, still so welcome grin, he then perched himself on the edge of Carson's bed – completely serious now as he re-met his friend's eyes, lending him strength for the trauma to come.

"Looks like we're good to go on this, Carson… are you okay…? Ready…?"

"As ready as I'll ever be…" Carson admitted, not quite able to keep the nervousness out of his voice. "I – I jus' hope this works…"

"You'll do just fine…" Kate Heightmeyer assured him, settling herself carefully at his other side. "Now before we start to take you under, Carson, I'm going to give you some idea of what to expect… okay…?"

Waiting for a nod that wasn't so uncertain as the first, she placed a small pocket-watch in his hand – knowing that familiarisation to the unknown was a lot more productive than fearful dread of it.

"My father gave me this when I graduated from medical school. I'll be using it to take you under…"

"It's beautiful, lass…" Carson murmured, pensively fingering the delicate intricacy of its case. To the amused relief of those around him, every millimetre of it, both inside and out, was studiously inspected. By the time he handed it back to her, the smile was slightly easier – the nervousness in his eyes almost gone

Smiling back at him, Kate then turned her attentions to another vital part of this journey into his mind.

"Laura's going to be your gateway. She'll be your link back to the safe place I'll be taking you to…"

That link was already in place – every one of Laura's slender fingers, wrapped gently around his hand. Smiling up at her, giving those fingers a mutually heartening squeeze, Carson then nodded once more.

"And that…?" he asked softly, indicating the trolley which Kate now drew up to his bedside.

"Another link to remind you that what you'll experience isn't really happening…" Kate explained – smiling too as she watched her patient hungrily studying a plateful of still fragrantly sweet shortbread. Turning more serious, just as John Sheppard had done moments before, she then patted Carson's hand.

"All you knew in that tent, Carson, was the horror of what Michael did to you… its terror and its pain. Your mind is about to take you back to it. But here in reality, you'll find nothing but love and safety. You'll know it each time Laura squeezes your hand, or when she gives you something to eat or drink. That's something you _must_ understand, Carson. _Nothing_ of what you'll remember during this is real. I'm going to take you somewhere safe in your mind, and Laura's going to keep you there, okay…? All you need to do is relax, Carson, let yourself go to sleep… just listen to the sound of my voice…"

Another nod, the reassuringly strongest yet, answered her as Carson took a deep, steadying breath – guessing from a tug on his IV line, Kate Buchanan's gentle smile, that the explanations were over.

This was it. There was no turning back now.

As the sedative started to tug him away from her, Carson turned already leaden eyes towards Laura – offering her the same courage he needed himself, before they were caught by the lure of spinning gold.

Captivated by its glinting movement, he felt his senses begin to slide, unresisted, away from him – his last, coherent memory that of a soft voice ghosting through a mind that was no longer his own.

"Give him hell, Kilt-Boy…"


	9. Chapter 9 Sanctuary

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Okay, here's one more wee chapter to tide you over until I get back from my hols. Word of warning, though, you _may_ start feeling very, _very_ sleepy while reading it, so keep the coffee handy... :o)

See you soon - and in the meantime, enjoy !

Chapter Nine

Sanctuary

"I'm going to start to take you under now, Carson, just try to relax now… that's it, good, just relax… keep your eyes on the watch, Carson… watch it spin… recognise that it's helping you go to sleep… let yourself go to sleep now, Carson… just let yourself relax completely, let yourself fall asleep…"

Relax…? Go to sleep…? How the hell could he sleep, knowing the terrors that awaited him there...? What on earth was he doing here, lying in bed while this vaguely familiar voice told him to go to sleep…? Why did he feel so damn weird…? And why was a golden pocket-watch spinning in front of him…?

Carson had to admit, though, that it was a _beautiful_ watch. A thing of delicate, unthreatening beauty. In fact, the more he sleepily thought about it, the less reason he could find to tear his eyes away.

That voice, too, its gentle insistence for him to obey it, was proving just as impossible to resist.

"Alright, Carson, you're going to go to sleep now, so close your eyes for me… that's it, Carson, that's good... just relax now, that's it... keep taking long, slow breaths… feel yourself relaxing more now, as your mind takes you to sleep… you're sleeping in your mind, Carson, but you can still hear my voice… you can still respond to it… I want you to respond to it now, Carson, so that I know you understand… can you do that for me…?"

The voice which finally answered her was soft, thickened by sleep into a charmingly tumbling burr – but it was still reassuringly calm.

"'ye, lass… yes, I – I can hear ye… st'll un'erstand what – what you're sayin'…"

"That's good, Carson… yes, it's good that you can hear my voice, because it's very, _very_ important. It's taking you on a journey now, Carson… in your mind, my voice is taking you somewhere safe... a place where you'll be completely safe… where there isn't anything, or anyone, that can hurt you… find that place in your mind, Carson… find that place in your mind, then tell me where it is…"

Frowning briefly, Carson then smiled, in deep contentment, at the subconscious beauty around him.

"Gl'ncoe… 'm – 'm walkin' in Glencoe…" he murmured at last, sighing once more in pure pleasure. "Jus' – Jus' outside th' village… s'mmer day, nice – nice an' hot… sun's even shinin'…"

"Sunshine in Scotland…? I didn't think that was physically possible…" Rodney muttered dryly – at serious risk of landing himself in the Infirmary too, now, as a gently slapping hand re-found his head.

With one fiercely patriotic Scot unable to defend his homeland, it was left to another to do so instead – Kate Buchanan's glare instantly ending all further wisecracks over that homeland's infamous weather.

Perhaps thankfully oblivious to the playful insults around him, Carson sighed deeply in his sleep – settling himself, with amusing determination, into a more snuggly spot in Laura's arms.

"Ha'e to bring ye h're one day, La'ra… ma'be when I t'ke ye b'ck home, to – to meet mum…" he mumbled, resting his head into the crook of her shoulder – the drowsy smile on his face growing wider as Laura's voice ghosted lovingly through his mind.

"I'll hold you to that, Kilt-Boy…"

It was a precious, cherished moment between them, greeted with rolled eyes by some and laughter by others – one broken, eventually, by Kate Heightmeyer's voice as she steered her patient, very gently, back on track.

"Yes, Carson… yes, I know how much you love this place… how much you love to walk here… in fact, I want you to start walking through it now, Carson… start walking through it in your mind… imagine that you're walking for miles and miles, into this most beautiful place of safety and peace… the further you walk into it, Carson, the safer you'll be, so keep walking into it, as far as you can go… in your mind, you're walking for miles, in a place you love, into a place of complete and utter peace… that's it, Carson, that's good... yes, that's it, keep listening to my voice as you carry on walking… keep my voice in your mind, Carson, as you walk… keep walking, Carson, as far as you can go…"

Even as she fell silent again, Kate Heightmeyer kept her eyes trained on the face in front of her – taking in every telltale change in Carson's expression, noting each sign of its slow relaxation into deepest possible peace.

She didn't rush this passage. She made no attempt to break, or disturb, its most vital progression. Instead she kept watching Carson's face, looking away only to check the monitors at his bedside.

Heart rate – normal. BP – normal. Delta waves – stable.

Carson Beckett was as ready as he'd ever be

Finally, acknowledging Kate Buchanan's 'go ahead' nod, she did the same and looked up again – meeting six anxiously expectant faces with as much hope as she could professionally manage.

"He's ready…"


	10. Chapter 10 Behind Closed Doors

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: I'm back ! And I'm sure a certain wee doctor would agree that there's just no better place for getting away from it all than the wilds of bonny Scotland. I've had a simply fantastic time, and I'm already planning the next trip !

Anyhoo, back to reality - and as promised, I'm going to finish posting this story. You may need to wait a wee while longer for the ending, which has had a bit of a re-write. That's another good thing about spending a week up home, all that lovely fresh air has also given me some fresh ideas on how I want this story to finish. So please bear with me !

Now, where were we...? Ah yes, wee Carson's about to go walkabout. I hope he packed his subconscious hiking boots ! Enjoy !

Chapter Ten

Behind Closed Doors

He looked so peaceful. Snugly safe in his lady's arms, Carson Beckett didn't have a care in the world.

It was a false calm, though. A carefree world, granted to him purely by the sanctuary of a deep, hypnotic sleep. Kate Heightmeyer knew that, more than anyone else around her, as she prepared herself to break it.

Beyond that peaceful smile, a demon lurked. One that had tortured a vulnerable mind to breaking point. She had to find that demon, and break its brutal hold, before that fractured mind shattered completely.

First things first, though – to breach the defences which, ironically, shielded that demon from her. Carson had nearly managed it himself the previous day, as she'd carefully coaxed out what he already knew.

"_I_ – _I remember them takin_' _me_, _Kate_… _I can remember him grabbin_' _me_, _an_'… _an_' _tyin_' _me up_… _an_' _I can remember him marchin_' _me back to the camp_… _even see the tent they took_ _me into_, _but_…"

He'd started to cry then, in helpless frustration, as those mental barriers slammed shut on him, again denying him the fullness of memory that he so desperately needed.

"_I keep tryin_' _so_ _hard to remember it_, _Kate_… _it_'_s_ _so bloody vital that I do_, _but_… _I jus_' _can_'_t do it_… _they_'_re_ – _they_'_re like_ _doors_, _lass_… _huge doors in my head that I_ – _I jus_' _can_'_t_ _bring myself to open_…"

She'd left him then, to recover in Laura's tenderly fussing care, while she'd returned to her office – working well into the night to try and find a way to help Carson Beckett face, and defeat, his demons.

He could remember everything up to entering the tent, and had described the barriers in his head as doors. That, at least, had given her something to work with. An idea to take back into his brutalised mind.

"I've never been to Glencoe before, Carson, but I've heard it's really beautiful…" she said at last, finding further inspiration in the pride which had caused that smile to so charmingly widen. "I'd like you to describe where you are now, Carson… tell me what it's like… what you can see…"

Frowning slightly, as if resenting this intrusion into his peaceful world, Carson then smiled once more – this subconscious return to his homeland causing his accent, to silent amusement, to broaden still further into a sleepily tumbling burr.

"Och, it's l'vely, lass… jus' – jus' l'vely… great rollin' hills, all around ye, as far as ye can see… ye can be up here for hours, lass… come hikin' up here all day, an'… an' never see another soul… ye – ye need to mind yersel' though, 'cos the weather up h're can t'rn on ye b'fore ye know it…"

"Yes, Carson, I can imagine…" Kate agreed, gently bringing the second part of her plan into play. "Are there any buildings where you are now, Carson…? Any houses…? Cottages…? Farms…?"

Staring around at the complete isolation within his mind, Carson frowned again, shaking his head.

"No' re'lly, lass, no' this far from the village, it's… no, wait… aye, there's a wee croft ahead o' me… it's – it's a fair trek away from me, mind, but… aye, lass… aye, lass, it's there, I – I can see it…"

In silently grateful relief, Kate Heightmeyer levered her so nearly derailed strategy back onto its track.

"That's good, Carson… because the weather's changing now, just as you've just warned me about. There's a bad storm coming in, Carson, and it's getting dark too…you need to find shelter from it…"

He was already wincing, as if sensing what lay ahead, yet Kate Heightmeyer still pressed gently on. He was so close, so tantalisingly close, to breaking down those barriers. She couldn't let him stop now.

"Do you remember what I told you, Carson…? How Laura would protect you…? Keep you safe…?"

He was still frowning, but in puzzlement this time as soft smooth fingers closed gently around his.

"ye, lass, I r'member… ye – ye said she'd be holdin' my hand… keepin' me safe…" he said at last – even managing a trace of a smile as he settled himself more snugly into the familiar, comforting warmth of Laura's arms.

Making the most of this breakthrough, not knowing how long it would last, Kate took a deep breath – gathering her own thoughts, before gently taking Carson Beckett on the most vital walk of his life.

"That's good, Carson… you know you're safe now, that what you're about to see and feel isn't real… now I want you to walk to that croft you just mentioned… walk up to it in your mind, Carson… come on, Carson... come on, I know you can do this… walk up to it, Carson… I want you to open its door…"

She was holding her breath now, so was everyone else around her, as this pivotal moment finally came.

Ten seconds passed. Thirty seconds. A minute. And still Carson Beckett remained worryingly silent.

In front of anxious, watching eyes, a clenched hand then lifted from his side, shakily raised itself – its fingers slowly closing around a handle seen only within the depths of a brutally violated mind.

Swallowing hard, Carson Beckett unlocked the whitewashed door in front of him, pushed it open. Hesitating for one more moment, Carson then stepped across its threshold, into the deepest horrors of his mind.


	11. Chapter 11 Mind Games

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: I've just realised something - shock horror, we've not had any whumpage for the last several chapters !

Well, that's all about to change... you have been warned...!

Chapter Eleven

Mind Games

Five minutes. It had lasted for five minutes now, this unnervingly silent stillness. And it showed no sign of ending. Even when movement finally came to the motionless figure beside them, its cause only served to silently horrify.

Still gently held within Laura's grip, Carson's left hand suddenly jerked, sliding down to the edge of his bed. On its opposite side, in front of John Sheppard's quietly sickened eyes, his right hand followed suit.

At the other end of his bed, his left ankle slid fitfully to its corresponding corner, as did his right.

Then stillness once more, more silence – finally broken by John Sheppard's soft curse of bitter realisation.

"Oh, jeez, this – this is how we found him… in the reversion tent, strapped down on its treatment bed…"

Having been spared that horrifying discovery, Rodney McKay now stared across at him – stunned eyes darting between the grim anger on one face and the emotionless stillness of another.

Locked into subconscious restraints, Carson Beckett lay silent in front of him, completely helpless – the sudden rapidity of his breathing, the expression of utter defeat on his face, merely hinting at the brutal torment to come.

As realisation dawned, Rodney's face paled still further – his voice choked into a horrified whisper.

"You – You mean he's re-living it…? Now...? _Here_…? He's – He's gonna re-enact the whole thing…?"

A hand that had slapped him so light-heartedly before now settled onto his shoulder, lending what comfort it could as John Sheppard tried to prepare one friend for the suffering of another.

"Yeah, Rodney, he is… and we both know how bad it's gonna be… but remember, he _wants_ to do this. Carson needs to remember what happened to him down there, Rodney, so he can put it behind him…"

As Rodney nodded in shaky agreement, John moved onto another pale faced member of his team – quietly grateful that Laura Cadman had already anticipated what he'd started to so gently suggest.

"He's gonna get pretty agitated from here, Laura, and… well, he'd hate to think he'd accidentally hurt you, so…"

Not trusting herself to speak, Laura just nodded instead while softly kissing the top of Carson's head. Quickly stealing another, she then moved from his shoulder to another, more safely distant chair next to his hand. Wrapping it very gently into both of hers, she was clearly determined to hold onto it – no matter what.

Aware, in a grateful smile, of her CO re-taking his seat beside her, she then glanced to her other side – quietly asking Kate Heightmeyer the question which now dominated five other anxious minds.

"Can – Can he still hear me, Kate...? I – I mean, does he still know I'm here…?"

"Yes, Laura, he knows you're still here… and he knows how important that is…" Kate replied gently, drawing her own strength from John Sheppard's rallying words even as she quietly echoed them. "Whatever's about to happen, Laura, you need to remember _why_ Carson's doing this… okay…?"

Nodding back at her, albeit shakily, Laura then returned anxious eyes to the still face beside her – bracing herself for the already familiar nightmare which Kate Heightmeyer now set into motion.

"Carson, you've gone awfully quiet… are you alright…? Where are you…?"

Several anxious moments passed as Carson's mouth laboriously moved, forming soundless words. Even when his voice finally made itself heard, its helpless, stricken terror was still pitiful to hear.

"T – T'nt… b'd…"

"Alright, Carson, that's good… you're starting to remember now, you're doing just fine... now, can you move on this bed…?"

A faint sob escaped from him this time, terror now etching deep into his face as Carson shook his head

"N – No, 'm… 'm tied 'nto it… str'ps on my h'nds, an'… an' ankles… c – can't m've…"

"Alright, Carson, I know you're scared now, but I want you to tell what's happening around you… look around in your mind, Carson, and tell me what's happening… what you can see and hear…"

Another worryingly long silence, before the stricken voice made another fearful re-appearance.

"T – Talkin'… tryin' to – t' keep him talkin'… have to – to hol' on, jus'… jus' a wh'le l'nger…"

As puzzled glances gave way to realisation, it was left to Rodney McKay to vocalise its significance.

"The – The shields, right…? Those mind shields you talked about, he's – he's raising them up…"

There was a Star Trek quip in there, he knew, but… dear God, this was hardly the moment for it. Instead, John Sheppard just nodded, promising himself the comfort of that ongoing joke for a safer, happier time.

Watching this silent raising of truly desperate defences, he marvelled, yet again, at Carson Beckett's incredible, so unfairly unlauded courage.

That quiet courage had already brought him through one of the most traumatic experiences of his life. Had enough of it survived, though, John Sheppard now uneasily wondered, to bring him through another…?


	12. Chapter 12 Broken

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Okay, I'm getting a bit worried here - what a bunch of sadists you are ! Here's poor wee Carson, all helpless and getting whumped silly, and here you all are, lapping it up ! Mind you, what does that say about the sadist who's writing it ? Not only that, but here's some more...!

Just a quick reference to The Hive, and I've included that truly chilling line from Michael at the start, just to set the scene. But aside from that, everything else is as before. Enjoy !

Chapter Twelve

Broken

'_You_'_re_ _exactly what I need_… _now_, _let_'_s_ _begin_…'

"Nooooo…! God, please, no… stop, please… stop… please, God, help me… no… _noooooo_…!"

She'd prepared them, as best she could, for the unknown horrors which now unfolded before them - just as she'd tried to assure her patient that those horrors wouldn't be real, that they couldn't hurt him.

But even Kate Heightmeyer felt utterly sickened as that patient lay writhing and screaming beside her. Every one of those assurances had been torn apart by a brutality which she just hadn't been trained to handle.

John Sheppard had experienced it, though, long before that Wraith queen had forced him, so painfully, to his knees. He knew exactly what Carson Beckett was going through, as yet another scream rang out beside him.

More to the point, he knew how to bring these frantic, thrashing struggles to a merciful end – a far more humane way than the means which a white-faced Kate Buchanan now held in her hands.

Restraining her patient to protect him from harm was all well and good, and he understood its reasoning. But for all that, John Sheppard wasn't ready to take that most desperate of measures. At least not yet.

Instead he sat at Carson's shoulder, looped his arms around his friend's chest, and braced himself – drawing on all the physical and mental strength he had as he sat back, against the bed-rest, and held on

He didn't say anything, make any attempt to speak. John knew it would be a waste of time. Trapped so deeply within a terror that no words could break, his friend was beyond all such reasoning

Instead he held onto the thrashing body in his arms, merely nodding his thanks for unexpected help – Ronon's superior height and muscle-power counting for little against the strength of total, utter terror.

For those who could only sit and helplessly watch, it was a surreal contest, too horrific to take in. Three people, struggling to restrain a new but already trusted friend. A surrogate brother. The most tender of lovers.

Ronon was now practically lying across Carson's feet, while John Sheppard clung to his right hand. From God alone knew where, Laura was finding the strength to restrain his wildly thrashing left.

And still Carson Beckett struggled and twisted and kicked, with more frenzied strength than all three combined.

Then a fourth contender stepped into the fray, playing its part in this most bizarre of battles – one that Kate Heightmeyer recognised with both relief and sickened realisation.

John Sheppard had recognised it too, as the frantically thrashing figure in his arms suddenly stilled – whimpering sobs still escaping from him, growing steadily fainter, as Carson slumped limp in his arms, his head rolling sideways across John's shoulder.

Meeting his eyes, Kate was already nodding, her expression of churning emotions an exact copy of his. Taking a deep breath, regaining her much needed composure, she then quietly explained it to the others.

"Michael's taken control through the first mind probe, and Carson knows he can no longer resist… he knows there's no point fighting any more, not against such unbearable pain… he's submitting…"

They had all guessed as much for themselves, of course, but that really was of very little comfort – Laura Cadman's voice, the first to shakily find itself, representing the bitter wish of an entire city.

"Promise me one thing, sir…? When we _do_ find this bastard, you let _me_ pull the trigger…?"

Her CO was nodding, in equally heartfelt agreement, before the question was halfway asked.

"That's a given, Lieutenant…" John Sheppard said at last, taking a deep, composing breath, before making her a soft, heartfelt promise.

"We'll find him, Laura… we _will_ find him… and when we do, I'll be right there behind you…"


	13. Chapter 13 The Darkest Hour

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: I must admit that this chapter went through quite a few re-writes. I mean, there's only so much whumpage that a poor little doctor can take ! In the end, I thought I'd share the angst round a bit, for Elizabeth especially, as she faces the consequences of her actions in 'Michael' which really set the events of 'Misbegotten' into play.

I hope you enjoy - and thanks so much for the reviews, they've been much appreciated !

Chapter Thirteen

The Darkest Hour

'_We_'_ll_ _find him_, _Laura_… _we will find him_… _and when we do_, _I_'_ll_ _be right there behind you_…'

He'd made her that promise, just minutes ago, to ensure heartfelt justice for the brutalised soul beside them. John Sheppard had promised Laura Cadman vengeance for her precious Carson's horrific suffering. Whether as a human, or Wraith, and however long it took, Michael would pay for what he'd done.

His days were numbered. The whole of an enraged Atlantis would see to that. Michael _would_ pay.

At the moment, though, in Carson Beckett's tortured mind, their latest enemy still held all the aces. He'd stolen Carson's body, cruelly shackling it into complete helplessness. Then he'd done the same to his mind.

He'd even stolen that unique, wonderfully vibrant accent, replacing it with a flat, clinically emotionless tone – yet another sickening reminder of how complete, and brutal, his possession of Carson's mind had been

That same brutalised voice now confirmed the suspicions which John Sheppard had already held. The reason why his secondary plan to destroy the Wraith camp had failed, now sickeningly explained.

"Th – Th're's a bomb… 'n – 'n the f'rest… if th'res 'ny sign o' trouble from ye, 't – it'll be d'tonated…"

Nuclear weapons. A horrific means of annihilation, feared and abhorred by humanity – yet one now condoned in five softly growled words

"Nuke's too good for him…"

Elizabeth Weir might have rebuked him for those words. Chastised Ronon for his savage, uncivilised beliefs. Yet as she stared down at her CMO's haggard, suffering face, she couldn't bring herself to do so – especially when several heads around her nodded, as one, in silently heartfelt agreement.

Instead she kept a well honed, diplomatic silence while still gently brushing back Carson's hair. He'd be totally unaware of this soothing comfort, of course, but… damn it, she had to do _something_.

A guilt which had been silently borne several months before now returned with unrelenting vengeance. Subjecting Michael to the retrovirus tests, a breakthrough against the Wraith which he'd reluctantly agreed to, had been one thing. But lying to his patient, betraying his trust for so long, had gone against everything Carson Beckett believed in.

And when Michael had discovered the truth, the complete horror she'd seen on her CMO's face – well, the realisation of what she'd persuaded him to do would haunt Elizabeth Weir's conscience for a long time yet.

In a dangerous world full of cruel ironies, this one before her now had to be the cruellest one yet.

Carson Beckett had borne his share of betraying Michael's trust, but borne its repercussions alone. As a trapped, helpless prisoner, the one person who'd tried to stop that betrayal had suffered the horror of its consequences – brutal horrors that continued to torment him as Carson screamed once more in subconscious agony.

"N – No, I – I don' know 'ny more… I – I don'… no, please, don't… no, stop, please… _nooooo_…!"

And so began another sickening round in this battle for Carson Beckett's subconsciously captive mind. Another test of John Sheppard's strength as he struggled to restrain a body consumed by pure terror – his own exhaustion finally claiming victory as, still sobbing, Carson surrendered to its mercy.

Yet even when he quietened, slumping limply sideways, John Sheppard refused to let him go. If anything, his own revisiting demons compelled him to hold his friend protectively tighter – willing those demons out of his mind, while two shaken doctors rushed into a now familiar routine.

For the last twenty minutes, the monitors at Carson's bedside had been having a contest of their own – each trying to outdo the other as his heart-rate, BP and delta wave readings almost shot off the scale.

It took several more for Carson's own, physical exhaustion to bring that contest to a thankful end. Finally, though, he lay calm and still again, lost once more in his nightmare world of terror and pain.

In equally painful reality, John Sheppard now closed his eyes against fresh tears of bitter fury – tears that he couldn't allow the others, those who were depending so heavily on his strength, to see.

The truth still reached him, though, as this darkest hour in Carson Beckett's life ruthlessly continued. The first half of it had passed in screams of pure agony. The second half would pass just as brutally.

From her seat at Carson's other side, Elizabeth Weir closed her eyes too, bowing her head in silent, helpless apology for her CMO's continuing nightmare.

'_I_'_m_ _sorry_, _Carson_... _I am so_, _so sorry_...'

Could he ever forgive her for this...? Could she ever forgive herself...?


	14. Chapter 14 Journey Out Of Darkness

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Okay, who'd like a little bit of light relief now...? A break from all the whumpage...? You would...? Oh good, I'm glad about that. I'd imagine Carson's quite glad about it too...!

As always, I hope you enjoy !

Chapter Fourteen

Journey Out Of Darkness

No-one moved. No-one spoke. The silence was too deep to be broken, the fury too deep to express. In complete shock at what he'd just seen, Rodney McKay wasn't sure if he was even breathing.

Laura Cadman had to do something, though, _anything_, to distract herself from this ongoing nightmare. She had to prove to herself that, even in its deepest grip, its greatest agony, _her_ Carson was still there.

Not even waiting for Kate Heightmeyer's prompting nod, she lifted Carson's hand up to her cheek – rewarded by the very faintest of smiles as a soft kiss inside his wrist somehow found a way through the agony, to a familiar and so often gleefully exploited weakness.

"La'ra, don'…! T - T'ckles…"

He'd barely had the strength to whisper this precious awareness of her presence, but it was enough. As Laura's face lit up with delight, a relief shared by everyone around her, it was _more_ than enough. He knew she was there. Even as this horrific re-living of his ordeal continued, he knew she was there

A brutal enemy still held control over his mind, but she still held precious claim on Carson's heart. And there was no way in hell that Laura was going to relinquish that claim, or let _anything_ destroy it.

More gentle kisses settled across the tops of Carson's fingers. Another sleepily weak, half-hearted protest followed.

"La'ra, don't...! Don'... it - it t'ckles…"

It was a charming moment between them, one now shared in helpless laughter of releasing relief. For Kate Heightmeyer, these sleepy protests, however endearing, also meant something more vital. After being trapped for so long in delirious terror, Carson Beckett finally had the chance to escape it.

It was from sheer exhaustion, of course, but his mind had finally relaxed enough to be receptive again. Not knowing how long this respite would last, Kate seized its opportunity with two _very_ grateful hands.

"Carson…? Carson, it's Kate… can you hear me…? Can you tell me where you are…?"

The haggard face in front of her lost its smile, prompting an equally familiar, six-way reaction – the dread on six exhausted others melting into unrestrained relief as Carson's grew suddenly and quite astonishingly calm.

"Wraith c'mp… t – t'nt… Michael's c'ptured me, he's – he's interrogatin' me… makin' me talk…"

He'd spoken so calmly, with only a trace now of his earlier terror, that it took all of them by surprise. Even Kate looked startled as she tried to build on the breakthrough that had been so painfully gained

"Yes, Carson, I know… and I know how much it's hurting you, but you're nearly there, Carson… you just need to tell me what you've told him, Carson, can you do that…? Can you tell me…?"

Still closed eyes creased into a frown as Carson's head rolled fitfully across John Sheppard's shoulder.

"No, don' – don' want to t'lk any m're… 'm – 'm t'red… go 'way, I wan' – wan' to go sle'p… wan' to be wi' Laura..." he mumbled – a pout of quite adorable proportions charming Kate Heightmeyer as much as it frustrated her. One way or another, she _had_ to keep him talking, even if it meant resorting to all out bribery.

She _could_ try the suddenly appropriate lollipop approach, of course, or maybe yet another slab of shortbread, but – well, when it came to bribing Dr Carson Beckett, there was really only _one_ way now to ensure it.

"I know you're tired, Carson…" she said at last, dropping her voice to its most persuasive softness. "I just need you to talk to me, Carson, just a few more minutes… then you can be with Laura for as long as you want… she's already here, Carson, she's right here waiting for you… she's been holding you too, in fact, and…"

Carson Beckett was many things. Even in the depths of hypnotised sleep, gullible was _not_ one of them

"She – She 'sn't now…" he muttered peevishly, shifting once more against his makeshift pillow, his frown deepening in open disapproval. "Wr – Wr'ng sh'pe… no' snuggly 'nough, an' – an'… nae snug'ly b'ts…"

That sulky complaint had given Rodney McKay enough sniping ammunition to last him a lifetime. A double barrelled glare warned him that said lifetime would be counted in micro-seconds if he dared _ever_ try.

So instead he kept wisely silent as he watched John and Laura swap places at Carson's shoulder, cautiously returning the broad grins which had already chased all trace of that threat from their faces.

Wrapped once more in Laura's uniquely snuggly, inimitably shaped embrace, Carson Beckett was smiling too – a sleepily mumbled compromise prompting another wave of relieved 'that was close…' laughter.

"lright, lass… if – if La'ra's h're, th'n… 'ye, we – we c'n k'ep talkin'… jus' a bit l'nger…"

As welcome as this frivolous bargaining had been, a more serious cause for celebration lay behind it - a knowledge shared among six now elatedly smiling faces.

The worst was over. The end to Michael's seemingly interminable grip on Carson's mind had just come a little bit closer.


	15. Chapter 15 Tantalus

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: After all the whumpage, the end of it is finally in sight for Carson, hence this chapter's title. It's also a wee tip of the hat to Paul McGillion's first appearance in the world of Stargate, as the young Ernest Littlefield in SG1's The Torment Of Tantalus. I just thought the title would work nicely here.

As always, I hope you enjoy !

Chapter Fifteen

Tantalus

If their emotions had been rollercoasters, then six exhausted souls had just taken the ride of their lives.

Only minutes ago they'd been laughing out loud, enjoying welcome respite from its dizzying dips and switches. Sleepily lovelorn mumbles over Laura Cadman's unique, pillowy assets had been the tonic they'd all sorely needed. Even Ronon, caught up in the relief of the moment, had found it impossible to keep his face straight.

But now that same sleepily guileless voice had taken them back onto that crazily unpredictable ride – reminding them, in such irony, that life in their already jeopardized city had just become a _lot_ harder.

"He – He's makin' me talk aga'n… makin' me t'll him 'bout th' shield, an'… an' how it's pow'red…"

As if sensing the collective dismay around him, Carson then winced, fretfully shaking his head.

"I – I mus'n't… mus'n't t'll him… mus'n't tell him… mus'n't…."

For Laura Cadman, this near frantic chant of brutally subdued defiance was just as cruelly familiar – the nightmare which had triggered Carson's breakdown, now played out yet again in front of her. Her only tenuous comfort was that Kate Heightmeyer had no intention of letting it continue.

"It's alright, Carson, I know how much he hurts you when you resist him, so I don't want you to try… just try to relax now… it's alright, you're perfectly safe, you're just remembering what you told him... just relax now, Carson, it's alright… it's alright, you're perfectly safe now… just let your mind remember…"

Even as he gradually settled again, the pained wince on Carson's face, if anything, grew even deeper – the slurred hoarseness of his voice merely hinting at how rapidly his strength was running out.

"He – He's st'pped now… leavin' me 'lone… callin' to s'meone to – to guard me…"

"…while he defuses the bomb… he must leave Carson at this point…" John Sheppard cut in softly, meeting Kate's eyes with the same realization as Carson fell back, once more, into exhausted silence. "I think that's it, doc… when we took out those guards and found him, Carson was left alone in the reverting tent and Michael was gone…"

"Carson was also unconscious, as he would be after such prolonged torture…" Teyla agreed just as quietly, that horrifying discovery still raw in her voice as she re-met the eyes which had shared it with her. "I agree, Colonel Sheppard… Carson has told us everything now… it is, as you say, over…"

Nodding agreement, Kate Heightmeyer then leant forward in her chair to gently take Carson's hand – the faint, racing pulse she found there confirming that the end to his ordeal couldn't come a moment too soon. Re-living his ordeal had tested Carson Beckett's strength and courage to their absolute limits.

She had to be sure first, though. Completely sure that no further threats to it lurked within his mind.

"What's happening now, Carson, can you tell me…? Where are you…? What's happening to you…?"

He barely had the strength to form the words now – his voice barely rising above a shaking whisper.

"'akin' up… J'mper…T'yla…"

A rambling tumble of barely coherent words, but they'd still told Kate Heightmeyer all she'd needed to know.

"He's remembered everything he needs to… I can start to bring him back now…" she announced, trading glances with another quietly worried doctor as Kate Buchanan worked with practised calm over her patient. "It's taken a lot out of him, though, much more than I'd anticipated, so that has to take priority. I know how much Carson needs to know what happened to him, but he really needs to rest first…"

Met with a succession of relieved yet equally weary nods, she then turned back to Carson – preparing to bring him of his nightmare a damn sight more quickly than she'd taken him in.

"Alright, Carson, you've done really well… really well, Carson, you've done all you've needed to… I'm going to bring you back now, but I know you're really tired… yes, I know you just want to sleep, Carson, so you'll wake up and see that Laura's with you, then you'll go straight back to sleep again, okay…?"

As Carson nodded, too exhausted to reply, Kate began the gentle process of returning him to reality – a slow ten-count, coaxing him awake, until heavily closed eyes flickered gingerly open in response.

No sooner had they done so, struggling to focus on a beautiful yet so palely anxious face beside him, then they closed again. His last awareness was of gentle kisses on his hand, the puzzling sound of soft crying, before he sank back into depthless darkness.


	16. Chapter 16 0312 AM

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Well, that's the whumping over for Carson, but there are still a few surprises in store. As he realises what he's done, who's going to understand how he feels...?

There's seven more chapters to go, so thanks for staying with me - I hope you enjoy this latest one !

Chapter Sixteen

03.12 AM

Since joining this once in a constantly threatened lifetime mission, he'd become many things – second in command to some, inspiring CO to others, surrogate big brother to everyone in between.

At the moment, John Sheppard was taking that third role every bit as seriously as he took the other two. A still vulnerable friend, one of his surrogate brothers, needed his help, his sadly unique support. Even as he lay in precious, healing sleep, that traumatised friend still needed his protection

So blithely ignoring his own orders for his team to get some sleep, he'd kept guard at Carson's side – the edge of his shoulder, it seemed, providing a lot more comfort to his friend than foam packed linen.

His own medications, his own exhaustion, had provided Carson with everything else he needed – carefully controlled sleep keeping a broken body, a brutalised mind, securely in its healing depths.

Doggedly pursued novel in his lap, coffee mug in his hand, John now glanced down to the huddled form beside him – allowing himself just the trace of a smile as he carefully tucked the covers around Carson's shoulders.

He'd been spark out for almost twenty hours now, and looked set to remain so for some while yet. So it was some surprise when the silent huddle stirred under his hand, slowly uncurling itself – a sleepy, unmistakeable voice disturbing him from a novel that he clearly just wasn't fated to finish.

"L – La'ra…?"

Mentally peeling himself from the ceiling, John then offered his friend a deliberately neutral smile –shrewd eyes already searching for telltale signs of trouble as Carson blinked sleepily around him. He'd woken calmly enough. But John knew, all too well, how deceptive such calmness could be.

"Sorry to disappoint you, buddy, but no… she's still in bed… though I can go get here if you want…" he said at last, cursing in silent dismay as the first of those warning signs betrayed itself in widening, already stricken eyes.

Damn, he was remembering it already. Couldn't those sedatives have kept him under a little longer…?

The faint voice beside him set further alarm bells ringing. It sounded lost. Broken. Defeated.

"How – How bad is it, John…? I - I mean, what I told him, what - what he made me tell him..."

Realising there was no choice now but to come clean, John sighed while turning to face his friend.

"He took a hell of a lot from you, Carson… the bomb, our long range scanners... the schematics for the shield…" he said at last, hastening to reassure his friend as an already unhealthily gaunt face turned several shades paler. Firm hands settled back onto trembling shoulders. The voice, still gentle, held little room for argument

"But it's _nothing_ we can't handle, Carson, you hear me…? I've told you that already, remember…? What that bastard did to you, what he made you do, it wasn't your fault… it _wasn_'_t_ your fault…"

The stricken eyes in front of him were still wide, filled with more suffering than they ever deserved – Carson's yearning to believe those precious assurances so painfully familiar as John made them again.

"It _wasn_'_t_ your fault, Carson… believe me, _no_-_one_ can withstand that kind of control… that kind of torture..."

Blue eyes still held his, still yearning to believe. Blue eyes suddenly, and blessedly, grew even wider. And as he watched this change, John Sheppard offered silent, heartfelt thanks to every god he knew.

He understood. At long last, Carson Beckett didn't just believe what he'd said, he _understood_.

"Oh, sweet Christ…" he finally whispered, his voice expressing every part of his horrified shock. "You – You've been through this too, haven't ye…? An' – An' no' jus' from the Wraith…?"

Always a firm believer that actions spoke louder than words, John Sheppard simply nodded in reply, saying nothing. He'd made his point. Carson understood it. He didn't need a sledgehammer to drive it further home.

They _would_ talk about it, of course. They _would_ find strength in this horrific connection between them. But for now they simply held onto each other, each finding that strength without the need for words.

At 03.12 am on a storm-swept morning, two broken souls found common ground on which to heal


	17. Chapter 17 Riders On The Storm

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: I'm hoping to finish posting this story through the weekend, since RL is going to get pretty busy again for me next week ! Still six more chapters after this one, though, so I'd better crack on !

Chapter Seventeen

Riders On The Storm

"John…? Do – Do ye think he's still alive…?"

His voice almost lost on a brisk dawn breeze, Carson took a deep steadying breath, then tried again.

"I – I mean, I know I wished him in hell, for – for what he did to me, and Lieutenant Morrison, but…"

"…you still feel responsible for him…?"

Finishing the question as quietly as Carson Beckett had started it, John Sheppard then sighed – meeting his friend's eyes with a slight smile before he sighed once more, shrugging his shoulders. "I honestly don't know, Carson… I mean, with no way of proving things, one way or the other…"

"Aye, lad, I know… I know…"

As another awkward silence stretched between them, John still resisted the temptation to break it. If there was one thing he'd learned in his time on Atlantis, it was _not_ to back her CMO into a corner. An unsettled Carson Beckett would reveal what was troubling him when _he_ was good and ready, _never_ before.

Instead John took another sip of his coffee, staring over the balcony railing to the distant storm beyond. It had become something of a routine now, this quiet chat together over breakfast in the Commissary. Another part of the healing process between them, re-building precious bonds of trust and friendship. A simple yet vital way of ensuring that one of his closest friends didn't end up as a total basket case.

God knew, he reflected, now quietly studying his friend, it would be an uphill battle for some time yet.

Subjected to a brutality he'd never deserved, Carson Beckett had just been through hell and back – survivors' guilt the latest threat to that most compassionate of minds as it still struggled to heal.

The warning signs had been hard to spot, of course, since Carson had been so quiet of late anyway. But John Sheppard had noticed that telltale rubbing of knuckles during yesterday's staff meeting.

Uncharacteristically late, the last to arrive, Carson had, even more tellingly, been the first to leave – John's quiet 'I'll take care of this…' to a room of awkward friends met, thankfully, with no argument as he'd followed his friend out.

Finding him in, of all places, the combat training room, John had borne witness to a surreal sight – the gentlest soul in the city, punching the proverbial crap out of one of their training mannequins. If the thing had been real, John had dryly reflected, it would have needed one hell of a good surgeon.

Its suffering had only ended when, his fury and anger finally spent, Carson had collapsed against it – curses of Celtic fury replaced by stricken sobs as he'd buried his head in his hands, and cried and cried

Only then had John emerged from his hiding place, to rest the gentlest of hands on Carson's shoulder. He'd kept it there, offering silent strength and support, until the tremors beneath it finally died away.

He'd been in no state afterwards to talk then. To John Sheppard's quiet relief, he felt like talking now.

"'m – 'm sorry, John… about Lieutenant Morrison, an'… an' ev'ryone else who died protectin' me…"

Caught by surprise by this sudden admission, John then felt the slightest of smiles returning to his face. Whatever else Michael had stolen from Carson Beckett's mind, its greatest strength had still survived.

The compassion which formed the core of his soul was still there, albeit as battered as that mannequin. Now it just needed a little hope, a new sense of purpose, to give it fresh strength with which to heal.

"Yeah, Carson, I know… but you've got to remember what I told you about that…" he said at last, making a point of holding Carson's eyes so he could find that strength, that precious reason to believe. "The only way that their deaths will be wasted, Carson, will be if _you_ give up… if _you_ stop living…"

He'd spoken quietly and calmly, making sure that his voice held no trace of anger or censure – the reward of a tentative smile causing his own to widen as tear-bright blue eyes gladly confirmed it.

The stormclouds within them were lifting now, dispersing as quickly as those that had circled the city. As one storm rumbled its death throes around them, Carson Beckett now bravely rode through another.


	18. Chapter 18 While You Were Sleeping

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: I must admit that I love the relationship between Carson and Laura - they're both so well suited ! So for all you other slushbuckets out there, here's a little private moment between them which sets up the end of the story. Enjoy !

Chapter Eighteen

While You Were Sleeping

He was getting there. Slowly, still sometimes painfully. But Carson Beckett was getting there.

Much of that progress had come, in time honoured tradition, by the protective closing of family ranks. John Sheppard's orders, Ronon's glowering presence outside his quarters, had ensured he'd _not_ been disturbed.

For those with a really serious death wish, Laura Cadman took pride of place in the defensive line. As Carson's self appointed nurse and counsellor, she guarded over her charge with all the fierce protectiveness of a lioness protecting her cubs.

Even while he slept through thankfully calmer dreams, she still held him tightly wrapped in her arms. And when he _did_ sleep, he'd do so for hours, giving her all the time she wanted to gently re-claim him.

He'd slept soundly through the whole night again, for which she was deeply, and gratefully, relieved. Curled up in her arms, pressing her hand, with gentle charm, against his heart, he lay calm in the peaceful sanctuary of his dreams.

Snuggled against his back, her head pillowed by the curve of his shoulder, Laura was on the verge of joining him there – a sleepily mumbled, chiding brogue startling her out of her thoughts in the most welcome of ways.

"No' that I'm mindin' it, love, but you're spoilin' me somethin' rotten…"

She was, too, she had to admit, but… hell, why stop, when she was enjoying it as much as he was…?

"Yes, baby, I know… yes, I'm spoiling you something rotten…" she grinned, gently kissing his neck – leaning closer to nibble his ear, before growling a playfully menacing Mafioso afterthought inside it. "Why…? You got a problem wi' that, sweet-cheeks…?"

Hints of dimples graced those sweet-cheeks as Carson shook his head in wisely rapid denial. He'd learned, very early in this wonderful relationship, that you did _not_ mess with Laura Jane Cadman

Instead he eased himself onto his back so that he could look at her properly, treating her to a smile that could have melted the Arctic.

"No, love, o' course not… it's jus' somethin' I'm still gettin' used to, wi' havin' ye in my life, an'… I – I couldn't ha'e come through this without ye, love… I really should ha'e told ye that 'fore now…"

If not for the very real seriousness on his face, Laura might have burst out laughing. Her commanding officer may have led the field in the 'I'm-just-too-darn-cute-to-be-reprimanded…' stakes. But Carson 'Bambi Eyes' Beckett, always a close second, now posed a _serious_ threat to John Sheppard's title.

The expression within them now would keep her in teasing credit for months to come, but – well, until he fully recovered from this horrific ordeal, she soberly realised, that would have to wait.

So instead she just smiled, returning that seriousness with the reassurance she'd already sensed he needed

"You've never needed to, baby…" she said at last, still gently stroking his hair back from his temple, sealing her next words with a gentle kiss against it. "Being there for someone you love when things get rough for them… well, it's all part of the deal…"

Rewarded by a shyly delighted smile, she then grinned, confident enough now for some gentle teasing.

"And you'd better get used to the spoiling bit as well, Kilt Boy… 'cos that's a lifetime deal too…"

It was a lot for a still healing mind to take in. And it would take an even greater effort for him to reply. Even when he _did_ finally find his voice, the words that tumbled out didn't make a whole lot of sense.

"_L_ – _Lifetime_…? Ye – Ye mean we're…? I – I mean, we're _that_ serious, an'… an' everythin'…?"

Laura couldn't help it. That face, those eyes, that tongue tied stammer… it was just too much to take.

"Well, sure, babe… I mean, you _did_ invite me to meet your mother…" she said at last, still laughing – too enjoyably occupied in snuggling against his chest to notice how this teasing had affected him.

Perhaps it was her own tiredness, too, which prevented her from sensing the subtle shift in his mood. He was, after all, still softly stroking her hair, so she had no reason to think that anything was wrong. So as Laura settled, still smiling, more snugly into his arms, that change in his mood passed unseen.

Lulled by his warmth, the soothing steadiness of his heartbeat, she was asleep within minutes. But for Carson Beckett, it was a wholly different story. _His_ night's sleep was now well and truly over.

Stunned by what he'd just heard, its many implications, he was still struggling to take it all in. Love…? Lifetime…? Meeting his mother…? God, it made his head hurt just to think about it.

One word especially kept spinning around that head. One word had just turned his world upside down.

Lifetime.

The rest of his life lay ahead of him. He had so much within it to look forward to. So much to live for.

Gratefully resting his head against his pillows, he then resumed a now familiar study of his ceiling. For more reasons than his addled mind could count, Carson Beckett had one _hell_ of a lot to think about


	19. Chapter 19 Choices

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Okay, I'm being a bit mean here. I'm leaving you, dear reader, to wonder where this chapter might lead. The answer's revealed in the next bit, but for now - enjoy !

Chapter Eighteen

Choices

It took something pretty drastic, something _really_ special, to leave John Sheppard lost for words. Carson Beckett had managed it with just one typically quiet, encouragingly resolute sentence.

It had to be said, though, that the stammering follow up sounded a lot less confident than the first.

"Ye – Ye don' think it's a good idea, do ye…? I – I mean, I know it's come out the blue for ye, an'… an' it's askin' an awfu' lot of ye, and Elizabeth too, and ev'ryone else here, for me to do this, but…"

"Hey, no, Carson… no, I don't think that at all… I think it's a _great_ idea…" John cut in quickly – knowing, from wry experience, that if he didn't get a word in now, the chances were he never would.

Taking grateful advantage of the puzzled silence which followed, he then grew more dutifully serious. He understood, completely, why Carson Beckett had just made this incredible request for his help. Yet beyond that understanding, he couldn't help but uneasily question the wisdom of its timing.

His friend was still recovering from his ordeal – and that made Carson Beckett dangerously vulnerable. Now all he had to do was voice those concerns without breaking a still so very fragile confidence.

Yeah. Sure. Piece of cake.

"It's a _great_ idea, Carson…" he said at last, pausing to carefully think through the inevitable 'but'.

"And believe me, I totally understand where you're coming from with this, why you want so much to do it... you know that I do, and I'll support you suggesting it to Elizabeth one hundred percent, but… well, it's just you've gone through a hell of a lot here, Carson, and you're still going through it, and…"

"An' ye think I'm rushing into it, without thinkin' it properly through…?" Carson finished for him – smiling slightly at the 'nail on the head' shrug he received in response before, sighing, he did the same.

"I appreciate that, John… I do, but… well, it's not as if I haven't given this decision enough thought. I've been lyin' awake since two this mornin', son, thinkin' of nothin' else but…!"

John Sheppard's smile widened as he studied the determined, if somewhat tiredly rueful, face opposite him. Yes, he _could_ carry on arguing, of course, but from past experience he knew he'd be wasting his time.

From an ordeal that had almost killed him, Carson Beckett had made a decision – a real doozie at that. A power had yet to be discovered, John dryly reflected, that would persuade him to change his mind.

So instead he just smiled, nodding his understanding while gently voicing the next, inevitable question

"And Laura, she's… um… I mean, she's okay with this…? You've talked it over with her too…?"

"I'd bloody hope so, son… I - I mean, she _is_ the one who made me decide I want to do this…" Carson retorted – the quiet, determined words behind that priceless smile leaving very little room for further debate.

"I – I know it's askin' a lot, John… and aye, maybe I'm expectin' too much o' myself too soon, but… I _have_ to do this, John… that's all I can say, son, to - to justify it… this – this is jus' somethin' I _have_ to do…"

If truth be told, John Sheppard didn't need any further convincing over this incredible decision. The smile on his face hadn't been one of humouring agreement to pacify an over-excited friend. It was one of pride. Relief. But most of all, it was now a smile of complete approval.

Two days ago, at this same table, the eyes opposite him had been clouded by doubts and uncertainties. Now they were calm and clear, set with the determination that had once been so brutally subdued. And they told him, loud and clear, that Carson Beckett _was_ doing the right thing, for the _right_ reasons.

He'd just taken the greatest step yet to put the horrors of the last two weeks well and truly behind him. What else was a surrogate brother to do, other than help guide him over its one remaining obstacle…?

Carson had clearly been thinking along the same lines, since his voice again became tellingly quiet

"I – I jus' hope Rodney understands why I've asked _you_ to help me wi' this, instead of him…"

Anxious for his surprise at this admission not to be mistaken as offence, John smiled back at him.

"Yeah, Carson, I know, but… well, we _both_ know the reason for that, don't we…?" he said gently, waiting for that determined expression to return, before giving Carson's shoulder a rallying shake. "And I'm sure once we've explained those reasons, Rodney will be right behind you too… okay…?"

The smile came back stronger this time as Carson nodded, taking this cue to rise from his seat. If truth be told, this had been the second reason for seven hours worth of staring at the ceiling. At least by tonight he'd have explained all this to Rodney and, hopefully, gained his best friend's vital support.

God knew, Carson reflected dryly as he and John left the Commissary, he was going to need it.


	20. Chapter 20 Promises Made, Promises Kept

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Okay, for those left wondering over the last chapter, and where it might lead, here's its resolution... enjoy !

Chapter Twenty

Promises Made, Promises Kept

He'd been quiet that morning, lost in thought, from the moment he'd woken right on through breakfast.

Not that John Sheppard had felt unduly worried by this ongoing silence, or tempted at all to break it. It was, after all, the best way for Carson to prepare for what, both knew, would be one hell of a day.

So instead he'd respected this most vital preparation through his own, watchfully protective silence – breaking it only to gently insist that his friend eat _something_ for breakfast, if only a slice of dry toast.

That had won him a tense but still welcome smile. A sulkily muttered complaint had been more welcome still.

"An' people accuse _me_ of bein' a fusspottin' mother hen…!"

Wisely taking the fifth on that point, John had merely shrugged while passing him the relevant plate – a raised eyebrow the only incentive Carson had needed to dryly accept it without further argument.

From sheer nerves alone, his metabolism had burned through that toast with unnatural speed – the same nerves which now had him frettishly picking yet more non existent lint from his tie.

Aware of quietly gentle eyes watching him, Carson now met them with an even more jittery wince.

"I'm ashamed to admit it, son, but… well, I never could get the hang of knottin' these damn things…"

"Don't worry, Carson, it's knotted up just fine…" John assured him gently – the afterthought that his friend was knotted up just as tightly held safe behind a diplomatic smile.

Nodding in distracted agreement, Carson turned back to stare out at the passing cars alongside them – restless fingers gradually dropping from his tie, to give the same treatment to the hem of his suit.

Only when the car drew to a gentle halt at a tree-lined sidewalk did those restless hands finally stop moving – the nervousness within them transferring to a voice which now whispered the pointlessly obvious.

"We're – We're here…"

With too much at stake to tease him, John merely nodded while reaching to squeeze Carson's shoulder.

"You okay, Carson…?" he asked softly, his own nerves betraying themselves as he checked his watch. "I mean, we're a few minutes early, so if you want to… well, you know, just sit here for a while…"

So sorely tempted to do just that, so very aware that he couldn't, Carson shook his head instead – dredging up the tiniest of smiles for his friend, before nodding towards an irrevocably opening door.

"No, son, we're… well, they're clearly expectin' us… it'd be rude to keep them waitin'…"

Doubting that he'd ever be more proud of his friend as he was right now, John Sheppard smiled too – Carson's greatest strength, his innate concern for others, now joined by fears of a hated weakness.

"I – I jus' hope I don't start blubbin' on ye, John… or – or make a bloody fool o' myself…"

"You'll be just fine, Carson…" John assured him, giving his shoulder another heartening squeeze. "And even if you _do_ break down… hey, _no_-_one_, least of all me, is gonna hold it against you, okay…?"

While not completely convinced, at least Carson's smile came slightly easier as he nodded once more. More significantly, it was _his_ hand, not John Sheppard's, which moved first to release his seatbelt. And it was _his_ door which opened first to allow him, albeit hesitantly, to climb out onto the sidewalk.

Moving with, he hoped, not too obvious speed to join him, John gave Carson another rallying smile – one that was so gratefully returned as they walked, in dutiful reverence, to the doorway ahead of them

Removing his hat, John then tucked it, with practised military briskness, under his left elbow – his freed right hand then snapping, in textbook salute, to the distinguished figure who stood before him

"Colonel John Sheppard, sir… United States Air Force…"

Nodding acknowledgement, keen grey eyes then turned to meet Carson Beckett's quietly terrified blue

"And you must be Dr Beckett…?"

The voice had been warm enough, reassuringly friendly – but it still couldn't settle Carson's nerves. Looking for all the world as if he were about to face a firing squad, he just nodded, swallowing hard.

Perhaps it was this which brought another gentle hand to join that of John Sheppard on his shoulder – Richard Morrison's voice understanding every bit of his pain and anguish as he led Carson into his hallway.

"I know, son… I know…"


	21. Chapter 21 Meetings Of Minds

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: To all of you expecting wedding bells for our hero after that last chapter - sorry to disappoint you !

I must admit that was the original ending, but then I thought it didn't really fit in with the rest of the story. So these last three chapters is the re-written ending I mentioned earlier. I hope you enjoy !

Chapter Twenty One

Meetings Of Minds

Young. They were both so young, she thought, to have so much responsibility resting upon them. In _her_ day, US Air Force colonels were older, more experienced, their hair _definitely_ tidier, but – well, Eleanor Morrison now sadly reflected, the world had changed an awful lot since then.

For so many reasons, in so many ways, it had become a much more dangerous place in which to live. Her grandson had died protecting it, as he'd promised so proudly to do, in the service of his country.

Quite why he'd given his life to save a civilian doctor on a military mission still eluded her, though. Since he'd been gently ushered to the couch, several minutes earlier, all she'd learned from that doctor had been his name. Even then, he'd stammered it so softly, so nervously, that she'd barely been able to understand it.

She'd recognised the accent, though. That, at least, gave Eleanor something to very gently work on.

"And you're from Scotland, Dr Beckett…?" she said at last, offering him another encouraging smile. "I can tell by the accent, it's really very distinctive, isn't it…? And, I must say, very charming too…"

That won her a startled stare from two of the bluest, most expressive eyes that she'd ever seen. And, to the open relief of those around him, a trace of a smile as Carson nodded in shy agreement.

"Aye, ma'am… I – I mean, yes, I'm – I'm Scottish… Glasgow… I'm… um… I'm from Glasgow…"

He was still painfully nervous, but… well, all things considered, she could hardly blame him for that. What courage must it be taking, for him to face the family of someone who'd died protecting him…?

A great deal, she realised, watching the hand which settled, in brotherly support, onto his shoulder. John Sheppard may not have said anything, but that gesture, the concern beyond his pride for his friend, silently said it all.

She could see the strain of it, too, in the eyes which now stared, so wistfully, through the patio window to a glorious array of colour beyond. Turning to follow his line of sight, she then smiled again, with the chance of a precious breakthrough.

"You enjoy gardening, Dr Beckett…? When you have time, that is…?"

She'd never intended to make him jump so violently, but the deepening blush which followed…? Well that, and the equally charming smile which broke into it, all but made that reaction worthwhile.

"Oh, aye… no… I – I mean, um... no' so much myself, but - but my mother… aye, she – she loves her garden…"

"Petunias especially… she works wonders with them… right, Carson…?" John Sheppard chipped in, this brotherly intervention rewarded, in the best possible way, as Carson managed a shaky grin in reply

With a breakthrough now there for the taking, Eleanor Morrison now took it with graceful speed.

"Well now, Carson… maybe you'd like to share some tips to make mine grow as well as hers…?"

Too startled to notice this use of his first name, Carson then threw an uncertain glance towards John – whatever he was trying to say in response forestalled by the hand which gently nudged him to his feet.

"Yeah, that's a good idea, Carson… and I'm sure your mom would be flattered too…" John agreed – he and Eleanor trading the subtlest of conspiring nods as she led Carson gently out towards the patio.

Beyond his smile, though, lay an ongoing concern which his other host now quietly picked up on.

"This isn't easy for him, is it, Colonel…? Especially with what he's clearly been through himself…"

"No, sir… no, it isn't…" John agreed quietly, meeting that host's eyes with worry still in his own. "He's been awake most of the night, sir, trying to… well, trying to work out what to say to you…"

Met with another gently understanding nod, John then sighed while toying absently with his hat – the voice which answered so many unvoiced questions laced in both sympathy and bitter sadness.

"Carson was taken prisoner by the… um… the enemy forces that we're currently fighting against, and… well, he was tortured, sir, both for information and… well, to teach the rest of us one hell of a lesson. By the time we found him, I'm afraid your grandson, and the rest of his unit, had already been killed. Carson was the only survivor, sir, and… well, from that, and the trauma of what he went through…"

The response from a retired Marine General was equally soft, comforting him with its understanding.

"Yes, Colonel… yes, I can imagine…"

United by memories that only they could appreciate, both then returned their eyes to a sunlit patio – to watch, to hope for, to quietly encourage, the healing of another pair of tragically bonded minds.


	22. Chapter 22 Sub Rosa

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: I've borrowed a very personal bit of real life for this chapter. When my late mother died, the sympathy card which my uncle sent in her memory carried the truly beautiful poem The Rose Beyond The Wall, by AL Frink.

Rather like Carson, I've never forgotten its comfort. In fact, I still have the card, twenty years later. I just thought it so appropriate for this chapter, and the story in general. I hope you agree.

Chapter Twenty Two

Sub Rosa

He seemed slightly more at ease now, she noted, still watching him in discreet, silently grateful relief. There was even a trace of that charming smile again, as he moved closer to the patio's bordering wall.

Gardening clearly wasn't his strongest suit, but at least he was enjoying the calm beauty around him – a tiny blush of colour in the wall's trellis now causing Carson's smile to slowly, and wistfully, widen.

"Near a shady wall, a rose once grew…" he said at last, that same wistful sadness reflected in his voice. "It budded and blossomed in God's free light, watered and fed by the morning dew…"

"…shedding its sweetness, day and night…" Eleanor finished just as softly, smiling up at him – meeting startled eyes with motherly reassurance in her own, before gently linking her arm through his.

"The Rose Beyond The Wall… such a beautiful verse, Carson… it's one of my favourites…"

"Aye, it's – it's one of mine too…" Carson replied softly, stammering out a still nervous explanation. "It was… um… on a condolence card we had, my – my mother an' me, when my father died, an'… well, I've – I've never forgotten it, Mrs Morrison… never forgotten the – the comfort it gave me…"

Knowing, from her own experiences of such painful loss, when to remain silent, Eleanor just nodded – granting him several more moments of healing thought and reflection, before she quietly spoke again.

"I hope it can bring you that comfort now, Carson… the same strength it's always brought me…"

She'd meant every word in this latest effort to reassure him, hoping that she'd made him understand – the awkward strain that lingered in his voice telling her that she still hadn't quite fully managed it.

"I'm a doctor, Mrs Morrison, so – so I'm used to death, I've become used to seein' people die, but…"

Mortified by what he'd just said, Carson then fell silent, visibly struggling to regain his composure – the softness of his voice, its telltale tremors, betraying the burden which weighed so heavily upon him.

"I've – I've never had anyone die because o' me, an'… I – I jus' don't know how I can live with it…"

She'd been expecting this moment, of course – and now quietly welcomed its most vital breakthrough.

"I do…" she said at last, reaching up to cradle his cheek in her hand, thumbing away streaks of tears – meeting the eyes that were so clouded by pain and self doubt with crystal clear belief within her own.

"I can't begin to imagine what happened to you both during that mission, Carson… but I _do_ know this. For you to have survived it, to know you still have _your_ life to live, has given Jamie's death meaning. If he'd been murdered by a sniper, or blown up by a suicide bomber, or been killed by friendly fire… well, for him to have died so needlessly, Carson, so _senselessly_, would have been just unbearable..."

Sensing from his expression that he'd already heard all this before, Eleanor then smiled up at him.

"I'm sure that you've been told all this already, Carson, by Colonel Sheppard and the rest of your friends... but found it hard to believe...? To accept...?"

Brought up never to lie, especially to a lady, Carson smiled back at her, nodding in shaky concession – swallowing hard, against a further rush of emotion, at the gentle dignity of Eleanor's next question.

"Hearing those words now, Carson, from me... do you believe them _now_...? Accept them _now_...?"

It had only been the gentlest of stresses on a single word – but its effect was quite extraordinary.

The doubts and demons which had clouded them now lifted from those strikingly emotive eyes – chased away by the strength of his courage as Carson nodded once more, in blessed conviction.

Just to make sure, though, irrefutably sure, Eleanor then gently tightened her grip around his arm – sealing an already very special bond between them through further, equally inspiring words.

"Shall claim of death cause us to grieve, and make our courage faint and fall…?"

As she'd hoped, he was already smiling back at her, the blue eyes bright with new courage. New Purpose. New Life.

Gently hugging her back, Carson then reached out to brush his fingers against tiny red petals – the soft burr of his accent bringing appropriate charm to the quiet words which matched its beauty.

"Nay, let us faith and hope receive… for the rose still grows beyond the wall…"


	23. Chapter 23 Memento Vivere

Aftermath

By Ann3

Writer's Note: Well, this is the final chapter for this story - thanks to everyone who have shared it with me, I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

As I've mentioned earlier, RL has intervened again, so this will be my last fanfic for a while. I hope to see you again soon, though ! Till then, enjoy, and take care... :o)

Chapter Twenty Three

Memento Vivere

John Sheppard had no idea what they were talking about, so animatedly, beside a rose-strewn wall. They'd been standing, companionably arm in arm, in the same spot for nearly half an hour now – each of them taking it in turns to talk, to listen, until the other smiled and nodded their agreement.

He had no intention of finding out either, no slightest wish to violate such a vital, precious process. This was Carson's moment. This was _his_ chance to defeat the demons which still cruelly haunted him

Whatever Eleanor Morrison had told him, whatever she was _still_ so gently telling him, John knew it had been for Carson's benefit, and his alone. And he respected Carson too much, valued their friendship too highly, to invade such confidentiality.

So instead he sipped his coffee, hope joining his curiosity at the breakthrough those words had brought. Carson was smiling now, a real and genuine smile, as he and Eleanor returned through the patio doors. For the first time in almost two weeks, Carson Beckett looked genuinely happy to be alive.

And judging by the motherly arm which still linked around his, he'd also been unofficially adopted.

Keeping that thought, in wise diplomacy, to himself, John dutifully rose to his feet to greet them – a deliberately casual lift of his eyebrow met with an equally subtle nod of silent assurance.

'_I_'_m_ _alright_, _son_... _I_'_ll_ _be okay now_...'

However subtle this exchange had been, though, it had still been noticed in the same quiet relief – Richard Morrison greeting him with a warm smile as he motioned for Carson to re-take his seat.

"Well now, Carson... with such a long journey ahead of you, I hope you'll both stay for lunch...?"

Suddenly realising how long his talk with Eleanor had taken, Carson looked thoroughly mortified – a stress-thickened accent stammering, with returned awkwardness, through an equally chagrined reply

"Och – Och no, General Morrison... no, I – I jus' couldnae think to – to impose on ye both like that... I – I really think we should be goin' now, to – to leave ye both in peace... don't you, Colonel...?"

"You will do no such thing...! I won't hear of it, Carson, you _must_ stay for lunch..." Eleanor told him, fixing Carson with no nonsense eyes, an outraged tone of voice, that left no room at all for argument.

Even John Sheppard, reminded of his fearsome fifth grade teacher, straightened dutifully in his seat – the most subtle of coughs forestalling any further protests that Carson may have dared to make.

Thankfully taking the hint, convinced further by uncanny thoughts of his mother, Carson then smiled – conceding defeat with a shy nod of his head as he relaxed, albeit slowly, into the back of the couch.

He had to admit, in rueful silence, that the frugality of his breakfast was starting to make itself felt. So when a king's feast of sandwiches, cakes and home-made apple pie was laid out before him – well, it was all that Carson could do, and John too for that matter, not to drool with anticipation.

First, though, came a quiet request from his hostess which left Carson Beckett completely floored.

"I thought with your love of poetry, Carson, that... well, perhaps you'd like to say a few words...?"

Thrown for a complete loop, Carson stared up at her, a rollercoaster of emotions riding across his face. Finally, though, compelled by something he couldn't explain, he nodded and rose dutifully to his feet.

"I'm – I'm afraid my Latin's a wee bit rusty..." he said at last, hesitantly re-meeting Eleanor's eyes – inspired by the pride and encouragement he found there to continue with a more heartfelt confidence.

"An' I – I hope I'm rememberin' it right, but... well, aye... yes, I _would_ like to say somethin' here... somethin' important for us all, I think... memento vivere... remember that – that ye have to live..."

Not knowing if he'd said too much, too little, or even the right thing, Carson fell silent once more – the uncertainty on his face melting into dimples of shy relief as Eleanor smiled in motherly approval

"That was beautiful, Carson... thank you... I couldn't have asked for anything more appropriate... a better way to honour Jamie's memory..."

As her husband nodded in proud agreement, Eleanor then slipped her arms around Carson's waist – wrapping him into a tight, emotionally healing hug which neither were in the slightest rush to break.

Watching this simple yet so significant gesture, John Sheppard smiled too, in quietly elated pride.

Carson Beckett _would_ remember, honouring Jamie Morrison's death, the sacrifice he'd made, in the most precious of ways. He _would_ live. He _would_ survive.

Carson Beckett _would_ be alright.


End file.
